The Spirit Suppressing Museum

It’s 3:15 a.m., the ancient celestial hour.

It was sunny.

I just fled away from the folklore museum my son left behind.

I thought …… I thought that I had bumped into a ghost.

In the past six months, three hired men have run away, saying they couldn’t stand it, that there was always a knock on the door in the middle of the night. Blood would somehow ooze out of the walls, Footsteps coming from outside were heard but disappeared when they got closer. They said that they were quitting and leaving the job.

A ghost?

I didn’t believe it.

This museum was the most important thing my son left behind. It marked his fruitful life’s painstaking labor, I couldn’t just let this place fall into disuse. Since there’s no one to look after it, I would look after it myself then. I would close the door and wait here. There were no ghosts in the world.

　　But then the knock on the door did come.

　　I dared to call out who was there but there was no answer.

         But I saw someone over there.

　　It should be a prank.

　　I thought it should have been those who wanted to get the pay rise by pulling this stunt.

　　I got a little angry and walked over to the door. Holding my flashlight, I opened the door angrily, but there was nothing outside. I thought, there can’t be a ghost. I turned my head, but there was nothing behind me either. Still, I felt something was wrong. I closed the door and locked it.

         I was going back to get some more sleep.

　　But it hadn’t been long since I’d laid down, I found the bathroom light was turned on.

　　I looked up, the room wasn’t too spacious and the bathroom was only a dozen steps from the bed, but I was a little hesitant. I thought it must be an aging circuit, so I decided to take a look in the morning.

　　Plink-plink, plink-plink.

　　The bathroom seemed to be leaking.

　　Tip-tap, tip-tap–

　　Like the sound of someone who was treading water in flip-flops and walking on a wooden floor.

　　The sound of walking was getting closer and closer.

　　On the other way around, the sound of dripping water seemed to be getting farther and farther away.

　　I opened my eyes to look over and there was nothing.

　　I closed my eyes.

         The sound of footsteps was slowly coming up to me again.

　　Five steps, three steps.

　　It’s stopped.

　　After several minutes passed, there was no sound. Slowly I opened my eyes and there was nothing, just the sound of a plastic bag, fluttering in the wind. I felt relieved and found myself sweating all over.

　　It’s a little cold. Did I leave the window open just now?

　　I wrapped my covers tighter around me.

　　But a cold draft was still blowing through, and I wanted to see if the window was leaking.

　　I turned my head.

　　It’s in my quilt.

　　………………

　　Fang Hongbo hid in his car, his body shaking uncontrollably as he recalled what he had just experienced.

　　The one with the face puffed up by water snuggled under the covers, nestled against his body, blew out some air to Fang Hobo’s neck, and said, “Since it is a bit cold, can I just borrow your ‘Yang-life energy’ to warm my body?”… Could such a thing as the ‘Yang- life energy’ be borrowed?!

　　Fang Hongbo gripped the steering wheel with a very tight hold, there was a glimpse of grimness because of anger and fear.

　　No more!

　　This evil house… Ah-Yang died at such a young age… must be the result of tinkering with these things!

　　Whatever! Do what you want!

　　But it came to his mind what his son said before passing away. He said he hoped the father could protect his life’s painstaking labor. But it was to say so, to go back inside, he would refuse. There was a self-conflict in him, reflected in his face. He shivered and lit a cigarette, opening the phone to check the time. Read the most updated version of this novel and other amazing translated novels from the original source at Novel Multiverse – “NovelMultiverse dot com”

　　It’s after 3 a.m.

　　A distinct red dot on the mailbox app.

　　Someone sent an email.

　　He hesitated, his son’s expectant eyes flashed past in front of him, and he finally resolved to open his mailbox, talking to himself.

　　Just took a look if someone had put in a resume for a job. He was already old and weak. If only there was a young man who could take over this undertaking. It might be someone who wouldn’t be afraid of the spooks, and nothing happened to those men in the six previous months, but what if it’s an older one? Or a woman with insufficient life spirit of Yang, that’s God’s way of shutting down this museum itself.

　　Click on the email, open the resume, and look at the photo of the applicant’s identity.

　　An angular young face.

　　Wei Yuan.

　　Fang Hongbo’s chest rose and fell heavily, and finally, not knowing whether it was a fluke or regret, he let out a breath in extreme complexity, and his fingers tapped quickly on the screen, turning the salary from three thousand to five thousand, with food and shelter, and sent it to the person across the street

　　Then put out his cigarette and slumped over the steering wheel, coming to a standstill.

　　……………………

　　”Scared away?”

　　”Scared away.”

　　”Good, that’ll be fine, hmmm, this is still a place for us, the siblings.”

　　”My goodness, my goodness.”

　　Inside the Folklore Museum, several figures invisible to ordinary eyes were clapping each other’s hands. There were cheerful looks on their faces. One was covered in mud and water. It was unknown which reservoir the spooks had accidentally sunk in. Meanwhile, another one dressed in a gray, ancient costume with a hideous wound poking out of her heart.  A woman with a blue face, not knowing what kind of poison had killed her.

　　In the end, there are two paper figures holding hands with each other and spinning in the air.

　　The paper figures with puffy faces. With effort, the door of the small refrigerator was opened.

　　Then staggering to their feet and holding out a ring-pull can, they opened it and stuck three lit incense sticks inside.

　　A few ghosts were gathering over there in a circle, breathing in full ecstasy, the bottle of coke still intact, but if anyone took a sip, they would find it stinky, spoiled, and completely undrinkable.

　　The old ghost in the ancient costume with the hideous wound on his heart clapped his hands and sighed.

　　”My goodness, each time you drink, you will feel like drinking a good sweet wine, which you have never drunk in the past.”

　　The water ghost with a bloated look said proudly, “Hmph, that’s natural, this is coke, you didn’t have this in your time, this time that old guy was scared away, this place will be ours, there’s still a lot in the storehouse.”

　　The man with an old-fashioned costume licked his lips and spoke again hesitantly.

　　”But what if he gets someone else?”

　　”So, what’s the point of asking?”

　　The water spook reached out and stretched out his hand to his neck to make a strangling gesture, then grinned and laughed sardonically.

　　”Here is our domain!”

　　”Whoever comes for it, beat the shit out of him!”

　　………………

　　Fang Hongbo spent the night in his car after he desperately escaped from the Folk Museum.

　　The cramped space in the car and the pervasive scent of tobacco allowed him to feel more or less at ease.

　　It wasn’t until he got a definite reply from the young man called Wei Yuan that he let out a long breath and agreed on a time to meet near the Folklore Museum. It was only when the sky was brightened that he could drop the burden in his heart.

　　By the time noon rolled around, he saw the young man who had submitted his resume.

　　Dressed in a hooded sweatshirt, he looked sturdy.

　　Launching a little inquiry about whether or not Wei  Yuan had a girlfriend, Fang Hobo got a negative answer. He felt slightly relieved, the twenty-year-old bachelor must have more of the ‘Yang’ life spirit, or perhaps he was still a lad. In broad daylight, such a young man, most unlikely bumped into the ghost, such a young man was not the same, and might not be scared off.

　　He drove Wei Yuan in his car slowly to the Folklore Museum.

　　While parking, he asked, pretending to be careless.

　　”Young man, are you afraid of ghosts?”

　　Wei Yuan looked at the window which had lost a lot of its green paint covering. There were mottled marks on it.

　　”Ghosts? We’re worldly, where in the world are the ghosts?”

　　He replied with a smile. His hands were stuck in his pockets and a crouching tiger belt medal was grasped in his right hand.

　　The Folklore Museum and the paper man in that photo looked perverse.

　　To prevent the happening of something inauspicious or to avoid stepping into trouble for the five thousand dollars, he specifically carried the medal of the Crouching Tiger belt in his body. Suppose there were problems arising, he would leave and quit the job. Was it possible for him to take it this way?

　　Fang Hongbo parked his car on the side.

　　”…… Here we are.”